


Strange Bedfellows

by Fyre



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Finger Sucking, Frottage, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Vaginal Fingering, because he's bloody stubborn even when femme presenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27901828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: There had been some dire miscommunication a few days earlier, which meant instead of one of them arriving at the Ardmillan estate, both of them had turned up. Aziraphale had no intention of making the long trek back to London and – inconveniently – Crowley’s horse had tossed her and bolted as soon as she arrived.And because there had only been one guest room available, their amiable host said that surely, it would be no matter for two ladies to share.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 188





	Strange Bedfellows

**Author's Note:**

> So I venture into Wives territory, even if Aziraphale happily clings to his he/him pronouns despite considering himself a virtuous gentlewoman throughout. (he is neither virtuous not a gentlewoman. He is a naughty, naughty angel)

Aziraphale stared stubbornly at the canopy. “I don’t see why I should be cold while you get to be snug.”

Crowley huffed in indignation. “You don’t even _sleep_. I should get the bed. You can take a blanket and sit by the fire and read or whatever the hell it is you do.”

With mute defiance, Aziraphale curled his hands over the edge of the covers and pulled them up to his chin. “I’m _quite_ comfortable. I see no reason why we both can’t simply occupy the bed.” He gave Crowley a pointed look. “Unless _you_ have some concern about it.”

The demon stood by the bedside, a torrent of shadow and flame. “NGH!” she snarled.

There had been some dire miscommunication a few days earlier, which meant instead of one of them arriving at the Ardmillan estate, both of them had turned up. Aziraphale had no intention of making the long trek back to London and – inconveniently – Crowley’s horse had tossed her and bolted as soon as she arrived.

And because there had only been one guest room available, their amiable host said that surely, it would be no matter for two ladies to share. An unfortunate situation because – for this particular pair of tasks – they required… more delicate accoutrements and their host simply saw two spinsters who, of course, would never mind sharing.

So now, they were sharing one bedroom.

With one bed.

“Fine!” Crowley snapped, pulling up the covers on her side of the bed and slithering in. She turned her back on Aziraphale and reached out to snuff the candle with her palm.

In the darkness, Aziraphale let his hands settle under the covers. “Good night, dear,” he murmured.

“Ngh,” Crowley told him and curled into a tighter ball.

______________________

“Good morning, Miss Crowley! Miss Fell!” Lady Ardmillan beamed at them both as the entered the dining room for breakfast. “I trust you are well rested.”

Crowley made some non-committal reply, sprawling down into one of the seats.

“Quite lovely, thank you,” Aziraphale said, sounding for all the world like a satisfied houseguest. Looked it too, all pink-cheeked and rosy, hair in bouncing ringlets. Definitely not as if he’d ended up smothered in a tangle of demon hair and limbs.

Crowley stared down into a coffee cup. She didn’t know what was worse: the fact she’s woken up doing a great impression of a limpet or the fact that she had done it for most of the night while Aziraphale lay awake and didn’t try and push her away. Or… or the fact she’d finally got up the nerve to touch the angel and had spent the entire duration of contact fast asleep.

Aziraphale and the lady of the house chatted amiably over breakfast, but as soon as Lady Ardmillan excused herself, leaving them alone at the table, the angel gave her a severe look.

“You’re being dreadfully sullen today!”

Crowley – who had been trying to make a detailed memo about the softness of the angel’s bosom under her cheek – squawked in protest. “Just cos I don’t gossip like a fishwife?”

“Honestly, given how deeply you slept, I’d’ve thought you would at least try to be cheerful.”

Crowley fidgeted. “Right. Yeah.”

The angel was so quiet that Crowley looked up at him, only to meet a curious and worried stare. “Are– is everything all right? You weren’t– would you have preferred that I pushed you back to your side of the bed?”

“No!” Crowley was mortified by how hot her face was getting. “S’fine. Just a bit of a surprise, waking up like that.”

Aziraphale’s face softened in relief. “Oh good! I was worried I’d overstepped.”

“Nah. S’fine.”

_____________________________________

The second night in Ardmillan was somehow both worse and better than the one before.

Crowley snuffed the candle, but instead of immediately giving Aziraphale her back, she lay beside Aziraphale, gazing up at the canopy above them. Thin watery moonlight outlined her features in silver, her eyes ember-bright without her glasses.

“D’you think this’ll take long?” she murmured. “This whole…” She flapped one hand.

“It’s hard to say,” Aziraphale admitted, tilting his head to look at her. “Young Kitty is a strong-willed little thing. It may only be a blessing or two for her, but she’s got quite a way to go before she’s on the path she’s meant to be on.”

“Mm.” Crowley toyed with the ribbons at the collar of her nightdress. The black fabric was sheer and fine, draping across her collarbones. “Temptation should be a bit easier. Harcourt. One of the staff below stairs. She’s already a gossip. Shouldn’t take much to get her to misbehave.” She exhaled a shivering sigh, then pulled the blankets up closer to her throat.

“Cold?”

“Mm.”

In the pinnacle of poor decision-making, Aziraphale lifted the heavy counterpane. “Come here, then.”

“Ngh?”

“Better we’re both warm than not.”

And as if it was completely natural, Crowley curled onto her side, tucking her head against Aziraphale’s shoulder as she had the night before. When she breathed out, hot and damp, it rippled through the fine cotton of Aziraphale’s nightdress where it clung to the swell of her bosom, sending a peculiar tingle through her.

Oh dear, the angel thought.

___________________________

On the third night, Aziraphale didn’t say a word, only lifting the blanket in invitation. Crowley’s heart felt like it was about to explode out his chest.

___________________________

By the fifth night, Crowley’s arm had started snaking across Aziraphale’s middle before she drifted to sleep.

There was something quite lovely about the idle, gentle brush of fingers in the soft dip between ribs and hip. Aziraphale had never realised quite how sensitive that skin could be until those ghosting fingertips wandered.

Hesitantly, he let his own fingertips follow the curve of Crowley’s spine.

The demon shivered at his touch and made matters worse by burrowing her face into the plush swell of Aziraphale’s breasts. The swoop of heat – like the first drop when taking flight – made the angel bite his lip and stare more pointedly at the canopy. And his body gave him away, gently prodding at Crowley’s cheek.

Crowley lifted her face, no doubt staring at him, but Aziraphale kept his eyes resolutely fixed on a frill of lace above them.

So Crowley simply snuggled back into him, tucking her head on the angel’s shoulder and digging her fingers in a little deeper to the softness of Aziraphale’s side.

____________________________

It took another three unbearably distracting nights for one of them to give.

Much to Crowley’s surprise – but not really in hindsight – it was Aziraphale who made the move in his usual, understated, tacit offer rather than open invitation way.

The room was dark and quiet, the candle long since snuffed, and they were breathing together, Crowley’s arm draped over the softness of Aziraphale’s middle, head on his shoulder, but tonight, just a little lower than usual.

For whatever reason, the blankets had slithered down a bit, which meant every time Aziraphale inhaled, that lovely round bosom was rising and falling right in front of Crowley’s eyes. And she was watching. Couldn’t take her eyes of them. Couldn’t help staring at the dip of shadow through the thin fabric between the gravity-friendly breasts. Couldn’t help noticing the slightly darker little peaks.

Aziraphale shifted with a quiet sound, his fingers pressing lightly between Crowley’s shoulders, which made her tilt her head, nuzzling into the familiar warmth. Only as she did, Aziraphale moved just enough and one of those hidden peaks brushed Crowley’s lips.

At once, Crowley froze, panicked, but instead, Aziraphale’s fingertips skirted the back of her collar, brushing tantalisingly on bare flesh. Encouragement if anything. And when Aziraphale shifted just a little and that dainty nipple brushed her lips again, Crowley couldn’t help herself. She kissed it through the gauze-thin cotton.

Broad, strong fingers teased under her collar making her shiver and she kissed again and again, soft and darting and scarcely daring to believe the angel was allowing it. And after a moment and the lightest of sighs from Aziraphale, caution was thrown to the wind and she closed her mouth over that tantalising nipple and sucked.

“Oh!” Aziraphale cried out and quickly muffled himself with his free hand.

Crowley’s head snapped up, searching his face, his wide eyes. He didn’t do anything as crass as nod, but his fingertips pressed between Crowley’s shoulder blades and the demon swayed back down, suckling softly on the angel’s breast.

Aziraphale made the most perfect sounds, his fingers sliding up to sink into Crowley’s hair, holding her there and Crowley – more than delighted to be there – lashed Aziraphale’s nipple with her tongue as her hand sought the angel’s other breast, rolling his other nipple between her fingers.

“Oh my…” Aziraphale breathed. “Oh Heavens…”

Crowley lifted her head just enough to blow a chilly breath across the rosy tip jutting shamelessly through the saliva-drenched fabric. She drifted her hand across to the low collar of his nightdress. A curl of her fingers tugged it down and open, spilling lush pink breasts out before her.

“Fuck…” she breathed, then moaned happily when one of those greedy breasts was pushed to her mouth again.

She pushed herself up on her elbow, lavishing them with kisses, darting from one nipple to the other, suckling and nipping and ravishing them with her wicked tongue. And while her mouth worked, her hand roamed lower and lower, slipping beneath the covers, bunching in the long tangles of a nightdress, twisting it up and up under she spread her hand on a bare thigh.

Aziraphale made a sharp sound, clutching at her hair, and Crowley lifted her head at once.

“Enough?” she whispered hoarsely.

Aziraphale bit his lip, but beneath the covers, his legs spilled open.

Never the words, always the implication. Crowley could read him like a book. And as her fingers tracked up the inside of his thighs, she grinned. Braille in this case. Sopping wet and hot and plump as she stroked her fingers against him.

She lowered her head again, reverently taking one of the angel’s nipples in her mouth and sucking. Not too hard, but not soft either. Hand and mouth working at a set purpose, teasing and urging the angel to shudder and squirm and bit the heel of his own hand. He was primed and ready and she knew how this kind of body worked far, far better than he did.

Crowley lifted her head as she pressed her fingers into the angel, thumb press-rubbing his clit.

“Ngh!” Aziraphale moaned, heels pushing against the bed, knees tenting the heavy coverlet, his hips rolling against Crowley’s hand. What a shameless filthy little wanton he was, breasts out, thighs splayed. God, he was beautiful.

“Sh, sh, sh,” Crowley breathed, leaning up over him. “Don’t want anyone to hear, do we?”

Aziraphale stared at him, then – to Crowley’s astonishment – decided the best way to shut himself up was to pull Crowley’s mouth down on his. Definitely not how the demon had imagined their first kiss, his fingers buried to the knuckle in the angel’s heat, frigging the living daylights out of him. It was sloppy and it was messy, the angel licking demandingly at his mouth, his bare chest heaving and grinding against Aziraphale’s the hard tips of his nipples rubbing against Crowley’s chest.

Aziraphale shuddered beneath him through his orgasm, short gasps caught on Crowley’s lips.

Crowley kept gently stroking with fingers and thumb, carrying him through it until Aziraphale sank back against the pillows, his curls all askew, a look of dazed revelation on his face.

“Oh,” he said softly.

“Mm.” Crowley withdrew her hand, curling her sopping fingers to her palm as she drew it out from under the cover.

In the moonlight, her skin glistened and she ran a fingertip along Aziraphale’s lower lip. Her whole damn body throbbed when Aziraphale immediately sucked her slick fingers into his mouth, licking his own spend from her.

“Ngh!” she burbled, sliding her other hand down under the covers and rooting around between her legs. It didn’t take much, not with Aziraphale greedily sucking on her fingers and sending electric charges through her with every touch of his tongue.

Hot licks and sucks turned to slower laps and then finally heat kisses to her fingertips, her knuckles, her palm, the inside of her wrist, as she shuddered and curled over his chest.

“Ah.” Aziraphale sighed contentedly, finally releasing her wrist. He groped down, tugging the covers back up, but not all the way. Definitely not. Not when Crowley was left sprawled and shaky, with an eyeful of a rose-tipped nipple.

________________________________

It ought to have been awkward.

The day certainly began that way, flushes and careful and modest dressing, but after a chaotic day and several glasses of wine, when they retired to their bedchamber, all the odd tension of the morning was gone.

“And then I said to him better take a gander at that!” Crowley said, laughing, as she pulled the pins from her hair.

Aziraphale chuckled. “The poor man.”

“He was the one with a gosling up his shirt,” Crowley replied, grinning at the angel’s reflection in the mirror. She dug her fingers through her unpinned hair, shaking it loose. She really did look remarkably lovely. “What?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Only admiring the scenery.”

Crowley snorted. “Shut up, angel.” She turned and leaned back, sitting against the edge of the dressing table, a speculative look in her eyes. “We should get to bed. It’s been a long day.”

It had been, but it was also early. And yet–

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed. “We should. We need to be well rested.”

With all appropriate demureness, he retired to his side of the room, getting changed into his nightgown and not once glancing across the room. When he returned to the bed, tucking his curls up into a nightcap, Crowley was already draped under the covers, propped on her elbow. She smiled, peeling back the blankets in invitation.

Aziraphale lay down as primly as ever, feet together, drawing the blanket up to his chest, his heart haring away. But when Crowley leaned over to snuff the candle, he touched her arm. “Wait.”

Crowley looked down at his hand, then at his face. “Eh?”

“Leave it a while,” the angel murmured.

The blush that flooded Crowley’s face was impressive. “Ngh,” she acquiesced, curling down onto her side, as if everything they had done was fine in the dark, but the thought of it in the light was too much.

Well, if that was how she saw it…

Aziraphale rolled onto his side, meeting Crowley’s eyes. “You look cold, my dear,” he prompted quietly. He caught Crowley’s hand, drawing it to its familiar spot at the curve of his waist. Crowley’s fingers sank in at once and in a heartbeat, Crowley’s body pressed flush against his.

“Bloody freezing,” the demon breathed, groping down between them, the tangle of their nightdresses catching around their legs. She hissed and Aziraphale heard the muffled sound of fabric tearing before long, lean thighs framed one of his.

“Oh!”

Crowley would’ve reared back, had Aziraphale not already tucked an arm around her waist. “What?”

“Your feet! They’re so cold!”

Crowley stared at him, then laughed raggedly. “Yeah. Obviously. That’s why we have to stay close. For warmth.”

And she slowly rocked her hips, warm, slick heat brushing intimately against Aziraphale’s thigh.

There were many ways in which Aziraphale took his time over things, but this was one lesson he was quick and eager to learn. Face to face, he kept his eyes on Crowley as he moved his hips the same way, the intimate criss-cross of their thighs pressing them closer and closer.

There was something delicious about the friction. Frottage, he recalled. The French did have a rather charming turn of phrase when it came to carnal matters. Which this was not. Certainly not, this was just keeping warm and if they were breathing a little hard, thighs slick with one another and writhing together, it was purely incidental. As was the way Crowley clung to the back of his neck, the way her nightgown rode up and his hand slid down.

“Nghh.” Crowley ground out, pressing her brow to his, hips working frantically, as if she had a race to run, the urgent push of her thigh against his intimate parts making his breath hitch ragged. He caught her bare hip, squeezing, urging her on, until the only sound were there huffed, panted breaths and the creak of the bed as they moved.

Crowley’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes pressed shut, almost as if she were in pain. Aziraphale had to admit he could understand that, the coil of pleasure just out of reach. He hesitated, then slipped his hand down between them, pressing his palm low on her pelvis, against a thatch of coarse hair, and searched downwards with his thumb.

“Fgh!” Crowley ground out, eyes flying wide, rubbing herself against his thigh and his hand.

She led the way, wriggling to her release, then plunged her hand down to return to the favour, rubbing and teasing until they were both breathless and liquid on the bed.

Crowley took a deep, gulping breath. “Candle,” she mumbled.

Azirahale patted her thigh with his still-slick fingers. “Leave it,” he murmured.

So Crowley did.

________________________________

The bastarding temptation was done.

It wasn’t meant to. Crowley hadn’t actually been _trying_ very hard, but it was done and now…

Well, what reason did she have to stay? Technically? Officially?

She hurried up to the room she had been sharing with Aziraphale for the past three weeks, heart sinking by the moment. What happened in Ardmillan stayed in Ardmillan. That would be the way of things, wouldn’t it?

To her confusion, the room was already dark, though it was barely beyond sundown, and she could see the hump in the bed.

“Aziraphale?”

“I’m finished here,” Aziraphale said quietly. “I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

He sounded about as dejected as Crowley did herself.

Crowley shut the door and turned the key in the lock. “I’m done too,” she murmured. “Humans never know when to take their time, do they?”

The pale light from the window outlined Aziraphale’s shock of curls on the pillow. “Come to bed,” he said.

Crowley didn’t bother with the fuss of undressing. She snapped her fingers, her hair loose, her nightgown on, and padded around to her side of the bed.

Aziraphale was lying on his side, facing Crowley’s side – and the windows – and lifted the blankets up in invitation. And display. Crowley gaped. Stood there, staring, seeing what she’d only seen glimpses of before.

“Um,” she said, pointing.

“I thought I’d prefer to keep my nightdress intact,” Aziraphale said primly, as if he wasn’t lying there, naked as Eden, all soft and pink and bare. He nodded at the mattress. “If you don’t mind, I’m getting a chill.”

Crowley slid into the bed, heat rising up the back of her neck. “Bit presumptuous of you.”

Aziraphale actually _giggled_ , looking pleased with himself. “A last hurrah,” he said. “It seemed like a pleasant way to end this little trip.”

“End–”

Aziraphale leaned in closer, stoppering Crowley’s lips with a gentle, lapping kiss. “We have other long tasks at other places,” he murmured, threading his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “Don’t we, darling? Cold, damp places. We’ll need to keep warm.”

Crowley grinned against his lips. “Planning ahead, eh?”

“Mm.” The fingers in her hair tightened. “Now…”

A gentle tug on her curls guided her down. Under the blankets. Oh sweet Satan.

“Angel…” she began, then bit off her words, choosing instead to take a fat pink nipple in her mouth and suck. Aziraphale’s hum of approval vibrated against her ribs, his fingers curling, guiding her back and forth between his nipples, then – oh hell – lower.

Hot kisses peppered over Aziraphale’s belly. Bites too. Sharp and stinging and oh, she couldn’t wait for morning when she’d be able to see all of them, thick purple rosettes left on soft, pliant skin. And as she squirmed down, Aziraphale’s legs splayed apart for her in invitation.

In the smothering dark of the blankets, the heady scent of lust was all around her. She sank lower still, searching her way down with fingertips and the tip of her tongue, brushing through damp, lust-dewed curls and lower, burying her face down between Aziraphale’s thighs.

The angel tented his knees around her, his fingers deep in her hair as she gave in to a long-standing fantasy and licked at him. The fantasy had been flexible. All kinds of bits. Didn’t matter what he had, as long as it was him, and right now, he was soaked and from the taste of it, he’d been working himself up for it.

Crowley grinned, squirming a hand up between them and plunging her fingers into him, basking in the shudder that ran though him, the sweet sharp sting of his hand clenching in her hair. Two fingers wasn’t nearly enough, she realised. She added a third, then set to work on his clit, sucking and licking mercilessly as she pumped her fingers in and out. The greedy bugger rutted up against her face and hand and well, if he wanted more…

“Oh Lord!”

Even through the blankets, she could hear him and damn, if it didn’t send lust surging through her. She shifted her weight, contorting herself up to push her other hand between her thighs as she fingered him and licked him inside and out.

Turned out four fingers was enough to get him pulling at her and pulsing on her tongue and even when his grip ease and he relaxed, she kept at him until his feet were scudding at the blankets and he was pawing at like a man possessed.

Crawling back up his body, fingers wet and jaw aching, she settled on his chest for a moment, curling into that lovely – and soon to be gone – bosom, sucking greedily on his nipples until he threw down the blankets and stared wildly down at her.

“I–” he panted. “I had a thought.”

“Mm?” Crowley hummed around his lovely left breast, wet fingers sliding across the other.

The angel flapped his hands. “A moment…” He struggled up onto his elbows, almost dislodging her, and reached over to the dressing table. There was a box there, fairly shallow and rectangular, and Crowley had to admit curiosity always got the better of her.

Azirapahale propped the box on the bed, unhooking the catch and flipping up the lid.

“Angel!” Crowley croaked. “That’s a _dildo_.”

“Er. Yes.” The angel pinked. “I would rather like to use it on you. Or you on me. If you’re amenable.”

Amenable. To a big ivory sex toy. Produced by an angel.

She tried to snap her fingers, but… well… that was a bust.

“You or me?” Aziraphale asked, gazing hopefully at her.

The thought of Aziraphale lying there, flushed and naked and wearing nothing but a sex toy…

“You. Definitely you. Now.”

For someone who could be so methodical about getting dressed, he seemed to know his way around the harness awfully well, sitting then kneeling up on the bed to fasten it in place. Crowley’s heart was doing funny things watching those broad, clever hands slip the long ivory dildo into harness, smoothing it in place.

On his knees among the pillows, body all curves of silver in the moonlight, hair a mass of curls around his shoulders, Aziraphale beamed at him. “How does it look?”

Only reasonable way to answer was to tackle him onto his back on the bed and pin him there. Their mouths smashed together, tongues licking greedily at each other, as their breasts pressed to one another.

“Could’ve just changed your effort,” Crowley murmured into his mouth.

“Yes, but that’s no fun at all,” Aziraphale laughed and scooped Crowley up under her thighs as if she weighed next to nothing. “Would you…?”

Crowley groped down between them, giving her fingers a quick dip inside to slick them, then grasped the chilly length of the ivory dildo, dragging it into position. “S’big.”

“Mm.” Aziraphale lowered her. “Ready?”

The stretch was delicious and all the better for the look on Aziraphale’s face as she sank down on the thing, all the way down, until she was flush against the angel’s body again, dripping over her curls. She gave her hips an experimental roll and oh hell that was _nice_.

The bed creaked and swayed as she started rocking on the toy in earnest, pushing up and sliding down, leaning forward to grasp and tease Aziraphale’s bouncing breasts, tugging at his nipples and drinking in his gasps as she rutted away on the bloody great chunk of ivory.

“You– you look… remarkable…” he gasped out, squeezing her thighs as she increased her pace. Hard and deep it slipped in and out so smoothly, and from the sounds of it, the look of it, it was rubbing Aziraphale up the right way. He slid a hand up her side, steadying her, his thumb grazing over her nipple, making her hiss.

“Not there,” she gasped, grabbing his hand and pushing it lower. “Your thumb.”

Aziraphale laughed ragged, his hips rocking up as urgently as hers were grinding down. He wedged his thumb between their bodies, finding her clit and rubbing at it, making her groan and paw at him, moving hard and faster until the world reduced down to soft and warm and wet and hard and she moved, moved, moved, moved, his thumb pressing, the toy deep and hard and his other hand squeezing her hip her side, holding her steady as she came.

“Oh sweet fucking Hell!” she gasped, riding it out over his hands and his body and clutching at his nice big tits.

Things were a bit vague for a few minutes, warm and damp and falling sideways.

Breathing hard, she groaned as Aziraphale withdrew the toy, and rolled onto her back, legs splayed and wet and aching.

The angel brushed a knuckle down her cheek. “All right?”

Crowley had a funny feeling she was cross-eyed. Everything was pleasant and fuzzy. “Ngh.”

“Go to sleep,” Aziraphale said gently. “I’ll take care of everything.”

__________________________

The sun was high when Crowley woke the next day, pleasant stiff and sore, but also spotlessly clean and dressed in an intact black nightdress.

More importantly, the other side of the bed was empty.

Crowley sat up and immediately regretted it. Bad day for horse riding, she thought gloomily, then frowned at the dresser. There was a box there. A very familiar box. Left behind.

On slightly unsteady legs, she got out of bed and picked her way over.

Yep. The angel had abandoned his ivory dildo with her, though there was a note tucked in beside it.

_Crowley,  
I had to get back to London early this morning and you were so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. I’ve arranged for a carriage for you, which should arrive this afternoon._

_Yours sincerely,_  
Aziraphale  
P.S. I shall be in Crewe a week on Saturday and would appreciate it if you could return my property.

Crowley stared at the note, then at the box. “You filthy, filthy angel,” she said happily.


End file.
